


let me in (it's cold outside)

by niniadepapa



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5285210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniadepapa/pseuds/niniadepapa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>emma tries to find her friends' apartment by creeping on the mailboxes and the hot new doorman catches her. not her best first impression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me in (it's cold outside)

**Author's Note:**

> inspiration by a scene in 'naomi and ely's no kiss list'. i'm sorry, have you seen matthew daddario?  
> yeah, me too.

Martha Green… no. Joseph Castle....no. Brendan East… no. Julia Reaser… nope, not her either. The edges of her vision were starting to get kind of blurry, or so she thought, but Emma wouldn’t give up until she found her stupid friend’s name in these stupid mailboxes so she could slap her silly and get her laptop charger back after Ruby had borrowed it the previous day. **  
**

(What was a girl supposed to do without her laptop?) (Emma could admit it: she was desperate.)

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath for the third time as her best friend’s mail voice unfolded again.

“ _Hi this is Ruby, I can’t talk right now - or that’s what I want you to think - so leave a message and I’ll get back at you as soon as I can. Or not. Bye!_ ”

She glared at Ruby’s picture on the screen - one she had taken a couple of months ago, as she smirked and wiggled her fingers at the camera. “Fuck you too Rubes.”

“Can I help you?” She whirled on her place, clutching her hand to her chest and gasping in surprise at the unexpected visitor that had followed her to the mailboxes at the end of the foyer. She squinted her eyes - she had been seen blurry alright - to find the doorman standing in front of her, hands hidden inside his pockets and hiding a smile. “Or would you rather keep creeping on the neighbors’ mail unattended?”

She desperately tried not to blush - and not only because he was pretty hot, but because, hello. Not the best impression. “I swear this is not what it looks like.”

He tilted his head to the side, considering her. “What does it look like?”

“Like I’m some crazy stalker,” she muttered, wincing. She had walked inside the building with one of the neighbors so she hadn’t had to deal with the doorman, but now that she was here, it was kind of embarrassing.

“You’re not? Damn, there go my 10$.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and drawled as unaffected as she could manage, “Are you done?”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head, and stepped towards her. “At the risk of repeating myself: can I help you?”

Biting her lip, she rocked on her heels, sending a cursory glance in the mailboxes’ direction, as if prompting them to suddenly give her pointers to Ruby’s place.

No luck.

She sighed, defeated. “I’m looking for my friend’s apartment, I’m trying to get a hold of her but she won’t pick up her phone.”

He nodded. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“Have you been working here long enough to know everybody in the building already?” she asked, surprised, and he gave her a knowing glance, eyebrow rising up his forehead.

“How do you know I’m new here?”

She shrugged. “I knew your antecessor. He was a creep.”

He outright laughed then, clutching his stomach as she contemplated him with amusement. He had a nice laugh.

(...And a nice everything.)

“I hope I can leave a better impression on you than he did,” he said, still grinning. He sobered somehow, even though his expression still remained open and friendly, eyes bright and smile easy. “Your friend’s name?”

“Ruby Lucas. Or her roommate, Mulan.” At his pinched frown, she rushed to explain. “Hot brunette, legs that go for miles? Asian knockout with a killer fashion sense?”

A flash of recognition passed over his face and he snapped his fingers, smiling. “Ooooooh, right. Them.” It was her time to rise an eyebrow at that, and he seemed to realize what he’d said, and to her surprise, he even looked bashful. He scratched the back of his neck, pink-cheeked and staring at his shoes. “I’m sure that didn’t help with my creep factor,” he added, staring at her from under his lashes.

She couldn’t help it: she grinned and felt the urge to pat his shoulder. She didn’t, though. “Don’t worry, we’re used to it. And it’s difficult not to notice their hotness.”

He smiled back, and waved his arm in the elevator’s direction. “Apartment 4E.”

Thank God. “Thank you,” she said, walking away from him and pushing the button with delight at the thought of her charger being soon in her hands. He stayed where he had been, leaning against the mailboxes, and before the elevator dinged, his voice startled her once more from behind her.

“Killian Jones.” She looked at him over her shoulder. His lips curled in self-deprecation and something akin to hope clouding his expression. “Less-creepy doorman, at your service.”

She considered him for a moment, and then relented. “Emma.”

“Just Emma?”

The elevator chose that moment to open its doors, and she stepped inside. She turned back so she could face him, shrugging. “For now. Until I check your creep factor isn’t actually that bad, that’s all you’re getting,” she finished with an unexpected level of glee at his groan.

“Says the girl snooping around strangers’ mail,” he said, and she chuckled because, fair enough. The doors started closing between them, but before they did she heard him saying, “See you around, Emma,” and her reflection in the elevator’s mirror smiled.

* * *

Emma hadn’t really counted on seeing Killian Jones the less-creepy doorman again, but to her grudgingly admitted surprise, she did. From time to time. Ruby and she had started a new project which demanded that they work together most of the time, so that implied Emma visiting her every other day of the week. They could work at Emma’s too, but, the thing that Emma wasn’t ready to accept was that she’d always found an excuse to end up at Ruby and Mulan’s apartment instead.

To be fair, it wasn’t like she and Killian were _real_ friends. They saw each other briefly whenever she passed his desk by the door, and sometimes at the common room where some of the neighbors hung out. She sometimes stopped to talk to him for a bit, because, let’s be real, it had to be boring, and he seemed to appreciate her company. Like, a lot. Emma wouldn’t admit it, but it was kind of… nice, to feel that flutter whenever she showed up and he opened the door for her and led her inside, dimples flashing with utter delight as if the sun itself had walked inside. They kept their banter up to date, to the point that she thought of puns and dry comments to throw at him the next time she saw him, just to flush with success at his narrowed and conceding eyes. One day she stayed a bit longer talking to him - discussing the latest Twitter update, of all things - and Mulan and Ruby came downstairs looking for her, wondering where the hell she had disappeared to. Since that day, Mulan had decided that she got much more work done downstairs at the common room than at their place, especially after their neighbors had started literally banging against the wall at all hours. (Emma was really concerned about them, to be honest, but then again, she didn’t actually live there, so.)

Needless to say, Ruby and Emma followed her example, and soon they’d hang out with Killian at the common room from time to time, laptops, books and bags of cheeseritos around.

It was thanks to these atypical rendez-vous that she found out about Killian Jones, less-creepy-doorman and dimple king.

Not only was he in a band - “He’s in a band, guys!”, as Ruby unnecessarily proclaimed at their weekly girls night out with a meaningful glance in Emma’s direction that she purposefully ignored - but he bartended three nights a week somewhere else downtown apart from working his afternoon shifts at Ruby and Mulan’s building. He had dropped out of college after his brother died, and lived with some guy named Scarlet that, from what Emma could grasp out of his stories, was kind of a danger to society. He liked rum. He used to go sailing when he was younger. His favorite movie was Spielberg’s “Hook”.

She had shared some parts of herself, too. Because, well, it was only fair, right? So Killian now knew he shouldn’t bother to try to maintain a conversation with her in the morning if she hadn’t had her second cup of coffee. He had found out that she loved her job no matter how odd it sounded to strangers. He learned that she sometimes joined Ruby’s projects as an associate in order to stay busy when she was not on a case or following other perps. He also knew she had sworn off men after her ex boyfriend screwed her over and that she had a ten-year-old named Henry, and that his dad, sadly, was still in the picture but she put up with him for Henry’s sake.

All in all, once she thought about it, she realized Killian had learned more about herself than she normally allowed people to, but well. Who was counting.

“That’s alright, Swan,” he appeased her once she complained to him about it. “That’s what friends are for.”

She had just drunk her coffee faster.

* * *

 

On another terrifying note, Ruby didn’t last long in involving literally _everybody_ in their group about their new _hot hot hot superhot_ doorman.

“...who Emma totally has a crush ooooon!”, Ruby sang as they walked down her street, fishing her keys from her new faux fur handbag. Emma had given her one meaningful look when she first bought it, but Ruby had hit her on the arm with it in retaliation.  

“I don’t have a crush on him,” Emma sighed, following her, Mulan, Elsa, Anna and Mary Margaret to number 11, Grove St. Emma was actually kind of embarrassed: what was Killian going to think when such a big group of girls showed up, probably giggling like schoolgirls once they saw him? He’d probably feel like an animal in the zoo, with so many women observing his every move.

Or worse: he’d actually _enjoy_ the attention.   

This was going to be a nightmare either way.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out his reaction. He jumped from his comfy chair at the desk and practically sprinted to the door, opening it for them and bowing as the idiot that Emma knew him to be. “Miss Lucas, Miss Fa,” he smiled at the actual residents in the building, waving them in with his arm. His gaze landed on Emma, and she felt her heart speed at his beaming grin. “Miss Swan.”

In an attempt to look cool and collected, she rolled her eyes, ignoring the rapid fluttering inside her chest. “Jones.”

“And who may these lovely ladies be?” he inquired as the rest of their group let themselves in, making themselves comfortable in the common room.

“Elsa, Anna and Mary Margaret,” Mulan declared, pointing at each one of them. Killian took his sweet time taking each one of their hands to place a galant kiss on their knuckles, earning a variety of reactions from them: amusement from Elsa, shock from Anna and complete and utter delight from Mary Margaret.

“Enchanté,” he added, and Emma scoffed as she unceremoniously dropped over the fouton.

“Laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?”

His smirk was diabolical. “My Swan, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re jealous?”

“She is,” Mary Margaret affirmed, and Emma glared at her.

“You people are so annoying.”

Elsa laughed and patted Killian’s shoulder before bumping Emma’s side until she could take a seat with her. “I like you already.”

Killian flushed, and Emma had to hide her pleased smile, too, no matter how annoyed her friends could manage to make her. She had told Killian about her friends, especially Elsa, and it felt good to know that her best friend and her… new prospect of a friend clicked.

Their eyes met, and she couldn’t help but match his grin with one of her own. She saw him open his mouth to say something, but Anna interrupted him when she called from his desk, where she had settled in like she owned the place. “Hey, Killian, can you play music in here?”

He sent Emma an apologetic look that she waved away, because really, there was nothing to say. They were friends, and they hung out, and that was that.

Friends.

* * *

**  
  
**...well, maybe they weren’t such good friends. She liked to think they were, but then again, maybe they weren’t. **  
**

She was a bit confused about it, to be fair. There were several reasons for this conundrum going on inside her head.

For starters, she could think that they were truly friends because:

  1. He had met all of her friends, and she had been introduced to some of his mates, mainly his roommate Will, his Greenpeace-loving buddy Robin and his girlfriend Marian (who Emma already adored) and the most inappropriate name-dropping douche ever, some guy named Victor. After two drinks he was tolerable enough, she guessed.

  2. They had exchanged numbers weeks earlier and they texted from time to time, and Emma could recognize the lamest excuses in the book he used just to talk to her when he was bored. Not that she really minded.

  3. He had met Henry (once she was desperate and asked Killian to please look after him for an hour while she was stuck in traffic and Ruby was busy) , and they got along great.

  4. She had learned a couple of his most embarrassing secrets, like the places where he was ticklish or the shows on Disney Channel he watched when he was bored.




Reasons as to why she doubted their friendship:

  1. She was terrified of how well he fitted in her life.

  2. Friends told each other things like when one of you started dating someone, right?




It wasn’t like she had counted on that date with Walsh to go well - she had only gone to appease one of her bosses, Zelena, who had insisted on her ‘needing some loving’ and setting up the blind date herself. She hadn’t counted on accepting to go on a second date either, or to… _like_ him. He was funny, kind and sweet, and he seemed like he genuinely liked her.

(Emma tried to stop herself from comparing him to the other guy that she was pretty confident liked her, and didn’t hide it very well, but… yeah)

Basically, the deal was this: she had been dating Walsh for the good part of two months and she had yet to tell Killian. It was a miracle that he hadn’t found out yet, with how Ruby tended to gossip with whoever was within earshot. She had seen him several times in the past two months, but she always found a reason not to tell him. Playing videogames on his laptop and listening to a new album of his favorite band didn’t really spell ‘HEY I’M DATING SOMEONE’ sharing.

And then, it happened, and she wished that she had had the courage to say anything, because _damn_.

He had texted her an address and a time, followed by a string of emojis that made no sense whatsoever (even though afterwards he’d explain and she’d facepalm for not getting it and he’d give her that smug smile of his that made her blood boil) and she had dragged Ruby, Mulan and Elsa with her, meeting with Graham and David on the way after they had finished their shift at the station. When they arrived she wanted to smack herself for real.

There he was, onstage, guitar slung over his chest and crooning over the mic, smirking at a pretty big group of girls singing along and writing on the dance floor. She half froze in place, and it wasn’t until Graham pushed her from behind that she came back to the present and moved to the bar to buy a drink. She turned back to check Killian out on the stage, and somehow her eyes found his, and he grinned so radiantly at her, she felt herself sway.

“Emma!”

Make that a double sway. Walsh made his way over the crowd until he was standing by her, and kissed her cheek in greeting. Without a beat, she craned her neck until she could spot Killian on the stage, and sure enough, he was looking at her, again, but his earlier smile had slipped off his face, something akin to confusion clouding his features. She could see him furrowing his brow, and she bit her lip, desperate to say something, anything, but it wasn’t like she could. Walsh came back to her side after buying a drink for himself and saying hi to her friends, and settled behind her, arms slipping around her middle.

“They’re good,” he said, jerking his chin in the band’s direction. At that moment, Killian’s voice broke, but he kept going, and managed to get through the end without a hitch - and no more glances in her direction. Emma felt lead settling on her stomach. “Do you know them?”

Emma stared longingly as Killian and his friends finished the set and said their farewells, chugging bottles of water and packing their stuff. “Yeah. He’s my friend,” she answered, and not for the very first time, the word felt like ash on her tongue.

 

* * *

Emma was afraid.

Not only because, well, she kind of always had been afraid for a good part of her childhood and now, as a mother, it was pretty much inevitable not to be constantly afraid for Henry’s sake. But now, she was afraid of something else entirely.

She was afraid she’d royally screwed up, and that Killian was mad at her.

Rationally, she thought that was unfair, because she hadn’t done anything wrong. They were both single and hadn’t staked any claim on the other; he hadn’t even made a move on her, nor had she on him. She was free to do whatever she pleased when it came to dating, and so was he.

(Even though at the mental scenario of Killian dating somebody else, her stomach turned into knots and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.) (Damn, she was screwed.)

So, as a result of a cold and objective analysis from her, she could conclude that he had no reason to be mad at her.

Except for the part where she hadn’t told him that she was dating someone, but, _pshaw_.

It had been an awkward affair, to say the least, introducing Walsh to Killian after his gig at the pub. He had come to the bar later, surrounded by his friends, and gone straight to his coworker who was taking the shift that night, a pretty redhead named Ariel. Emma had tried to ignore the pang of hurt that spread through her at the realization that he hadn’t said hi to her first thing, but she couldn’t really blame him. He had come back with a drink in hand, exchanging pleasant greetings with David and Graham, kissing her friends’ cheeks affectionately and hugging Ruby to his side, thanking them for coming. Then, and only then, he seemed to remember that Emma was in the room.

“Swan, thanks for coming,” he had said, tipping his drink in her direction. She had clinked hers with his, and realized with a start that Walsh was still holding her to him.

“Thanks for inviting me.” She had patted the hand at her waist, turning her head in an awkward angle to look at Walsh’s face. “This is Walsh.”

Killian’s eyes had flashed, but he just offered his hand, shaking Walsh’s. “Nice to meet you.”

And that was it, really. There was the usual polite small talk, but nothing out of the extraordinary. Nothing that screamed Emma and Killian, nothing that they had come used to do whenever they were together, none of their inside jokes or neverending banter or all the things she had come to love to share with him.

That was why she was afraid of how their dynamic would shift now that she was, eh, spoken for. Or something.

She needn’t had bothered.

The first time she showed up at his desk, walking on shaking legs, he just took off his headphones and settled his chin on his crossed arms. “So. What are we planning for today, Swan?”

She had almost broken down into a sob right there, she was that relieved. Since then, things had gone back to… _normal_ , dare she say it. Some things had changed: he didn’t flirt so outrageously as before, and they didn’t really mention Walsh. Nor did she ask him about his dating life, even if she was curious about it, especially after she had seen his phone light up with texts here and there, and the picture of a pretty brunette on his screen when someone called while he was at the bathroom. As soon as he’d come back, she had acted as if she hadn’t seen it, and she had kept reading aloud the lame magazine test she had picked up for that afternoon.

At the sound of his laugh once she declared “Your Disney Character Soulmate Is: Captain Hook”, it was easy to forget everything else.

 

* * *

 **  
** “What are you doing?” he asked, plopping down beside her on the common room couch. She groaned, throwing the paper on his lap and hiding her face behind her arm. **  
**

“Moving is the worst.”

She heard his sharp inhale of breath. “You’re moving?”

“Not out of town,” she reassured him, shrugging. “Just to another apartment.”

“Oh.” There was something in his voice that made her move her arm out of the way so she could stare at him, finding him scratching the back of his ear, a telltale sign that he was nervous. “Are you moving in with Walsh?”

She jerked back up in surprise. “Of course not.” She flushed at her own reaction, and attempted to control herself, dropping her voice to a normal level before answering. “I mean, no. No, it’s not that. Henry and I talked about it and… I don’t know, there are too many bad memories in our current one. He’s growing like a weed, and it isn’t as close to his school as it could be, or my job.” She picked at her nails disinterestedly, sighing. “Anyway, it was just an idea, but until I find something better it’s not happening.”

She picked up the paper from his lap, sullenly going over the ones she had circled with Henry’s red marker and the number of others that had been already crossed out, either because they weren’t available or the prices were outrageously high.

“You know, I overheard Mrs. Jonsson the other day when I picked up her laundry. She said she was going to start looking for rentals next month.”

She shook herself, staring up at him with widened eyes. “What?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, she’s moving to the Hamptons with her new sugar daddy.”

She sat there just gaping at him for a whole minute, to the point that she was sure she was making him feel extremely uncomfortable. “Are you serious?” she almost screeched, and he finally grinned.

“I can ask her if you want to.”

“Killian, that - that’s amazing!” she fumbled, and without any warning, threw herself at him, arms circling around his neck and hugging herself to him as her paper fell to the floor with a soft ‘thud’. “Thank you.”

His hand found the low of her back, touching softly the tips of her hair, and she shivered, but didn’t pull away. They just sat there, huddled to each other, until she heard his whispered “The pleasure’s all mine, Emma” beside her ear, and she smiled against his neck.

And if she stayed too long in his arms for what was considered appropriate for ‘friends’, she didn’t care.

* * *

It didn’t really come as a surprise to anybody that her thing with Walsh didn’t last.

It wasn’t exactly what others would call heartbreak, that numbness that she felt after a relationship was finished. To Emma, it was more like a resignation that came over her with the feeling that, yeah, another relationship gone straight to the curb. She wanted to look over at herself and be mad for not feeling that bad after it ended, for acting so blasé over all of it, but she just couldn’t make herself feel something that she didn’t.

(And wasn’t that exactly the reason why they had called it quits? Because he knew she wasn’t as invested as he was? Because she was afraid she was going to hurt him way more if they acted as if it was not a big deal?)

Even though she wasn’t heartbroken over the break up, that didn’t mean that she was 100% alright. She was upset, and moreover, she was low-key worried: was she ever going to feel that way again for anybody else? Was something wrong with her? Would all those ‘when a door closes, a window opens somewhere’ shitty lines ever stop being so annoying? (...okay, that was besides the point, but she had a limit to the inspirational quotes Mary Margaret liked to email her every damn week).

She wasn’t sure she had mastered the art of hosting the perfect mourning period, with Rocky Road and rom coms every night, but she was getting there. Henry helped with the Rocky Road, but they marathoned Star Wars instead, because they were in a sci-fi mood lately ( _and_ they needed to get ready for the new one.)

After a couple of weeks, she decided that that was enough, and she celebrated by choosing a new carpet for the apartment and a lamp that she had seen in a furniture shop that she hadn’t ventured in before because it was Walsh’s competition. Now, though, she pressed the ‘Add to shopping cart’ button with vicious glee.

She also celebrated by going downstairs to visit Killian. The moving had been right on time with the Walsh’s break up fiasco, and that meant that he had been there for her every step of the way. He had been commissioned for help with the hauling furniture up the stairs (even if he joked that was between his tasks as a doorman) along with Graham, and that had been an experience alright.

Today, of all days, she just walked downstairs, yoga pants and a ratty sweater on, and huddled on the couch’s edge, staring up at him. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I’ve decided I’m going to change my life.”

His chair scraped the linoleum as he stood up and walked towards her until he was sitting by her side. “Wow. Some of us start slowly, but you went all aboard.”

She hit his arm and ignored his chortle. “Shut up. I’m gonna do all those things I have always wanted to do but never did, you feel me?”

He paused, looking at her with something like worry. “...not really.”

“Like buying flowers every week. Did you know I love flowers?”

He smiled. “I didn’t. Which one is your favorite?”

“I love sunflowers. I love daisies.I don't know, I just _really_ love flowers. Why do I never buy flowers and put them in pretty vases, Killian?” she asked him, and he looked even kind of concerned now.

“I don’t know.”

“And postcards,” she added.

“What now?”

“I like collecting postcards, but I always forget where I put them, or sending them. I’m going to buy nice postcards and send them to you all when you least expect them.”

She looked back at him, and took in the way he tilted his head and scrunched up his nose. “That’s really cool.”

“Isn’t it? I’m gonna start being cool,” she declared, and to her surprise, he huffed.

“Swan, you’ve always been cool.”

She stopped short, because, as always, he had managed to take her by surprise. “You think so?”

He nodded, and his hand took hers, holding it closely in his. “I know.”

She stared, dumbfounded, at their laced fingers, and smiled to herself. Straightening up, she let her head fall against the cushion and looked at him as composedly as she could. “Well, I’m gonna be cooler.”

“That’s alright.”

She grinned, and focused on her Things I Should Do To Successfully Make My Life Better list. “So what do we think of hats? I’ve always wanted to buy loads of hats, but I always think I’ll look silly, but, believe me, I look _fantastic_ in hats.” From the corner of her eye, she saw him trying to form an answer, but she went on, thinking that it was better if she just made them all rhetorical questions instead. After all, she already knew what he was going to say.

He would say yes to everything she proposed, as he had always done. Putting her first.

“And I’m gonna get a mani pedi. Maybe every couple of weeks. I’m gonna take care of myself. I’m gonna treat myself.”

He snorted and she went on and on for a while as Killian sometimes very rarely gave his input, but for most of the time just sat there, nodded and looked at her with that damn soft smile of his. And that was enough for her, really.

 

* * *

 

(A couple of days later, when she went to check in her mail, she found a sunflower stashed inside her mailbox with no note attached. She grinned, touching the bright, yellow petals with care, and thought of blue eyes.)

* * *

**  
  
**

The thing with Neal was that he wasn’t an awful father. Not at all, really: he had taken to the job with enthusiasm as soon as he’d found out about Henry, willing to help and had surprisingly stuck around. Something which, as Emma knew all too well, couldn’t be said for how he’d have acted ten years prior, when her freedom had been on the line.

No, the thing was that he was an awful co-parent. Especially when she had made it very clear that the only way this was going to work was if Neal stuck to their arranged schedule.

Which, if she recalled, explicitly said that this weekend Henry was to stay with _her_ , not with his him.

Alas, as she also knew all too well, Neal had never been too good with rules. So his showing up unannounced with hockey tickets for Henry and him and asking for the weekend shouldn’t have really surprised her all that much.

Maybe not surprise, but piss off? _That,_ it definitely did.

Which led us to their not-so-unfamiliar co-parent row.

“He’s my son too,” Neal declared hotly. Emma scoffed.

“Yeah, he’s been your son for two years and mine for eleven.”

He groaned like the grown up child that he was. “Don’t start again.”

“I’ll start every time you try to use that as an excuse to get away with everything you want without asking me first,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest just in case because God help her she _so_ felt like punching him in the face.

Especially when he made _that_ face at her.

“Are we done?”

 _That_ one. The one that spelled ‘God, I’m such a saint for putting up with her’. She curled her hands into fists and hid them against her chest before she did something she’d regret, and took a couple of cleansing breaths. From the corner of her eye, she spied Henry’s hair peeking from behind his door, and she sighed.  

“Henry. Get your things.”

There was a muffled curse as her son jolted in surprise at being caught eavesdropping, and the clutter of his things being picked up. She fought a smile because she just knew he was hiding all his clothes and stuff under his bedspread, as if she wouldn’t know he hadn’t bothered with tidying up his room before leaving. He appeared in the living room flushed, breathlessly running to her until he was standing in front of her with wide, hazel eyes.

“I can stay if you want, we can go to another game, right dad?”

Neal made a face, scratching the back of his neck and mumbling something under his breath. Any other day Emma might have pitied him. Today she was just tired.

She pulled Henry to her chest, kissing the top of his head. “It’s okay, kid. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

She kept it together until she heard the elevator on its way down at the end of the hall. After that, she lost it. First, she picked up a cushion and screamed into it just out of pure frustration. Then she threw it against the wall. Then proceeded to do the same with every cushion and stuffed toy in the apartment.

It might not have been the healthiest way to channel her anger, but it worked for her. 

She froze mid hit when there was a soft knock on the door. Frowning to herself, she listed the possibilities, but dismissed them as soon as she came up with them: she wasn’t expecting anybody.

She padded to the door until she could grip the knob, and paused.

“Who is it?”

“Swan?”

 _Killian_? She hurried to open it, and her doorman waved at her with a small smile. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He fiddled with the white, crisp shirt they made him wear for the job. “Henry told me I should check up on you.”

Jesus Christ. She closed her eyes, massaging her temples tiredly. “He _what_? In front of Neal?”

“Oh no, don’t worry, Cassidy didn’t get it. We used our secret code.”

Her eyes widened. “You have a code with my son?”

He shrugged; as if it was the most normal thing in the world to make up a code with an eleven year old. “We were bored,” he said as all explanation. He seemed to recover, and his expression turned concerned. “Are you okay?”

She did her best to school her features into something close to nonchalance. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

By the look he gave her, she could guess he hadn’t bought it. “Would Henry bother asking me to check on you if you weren’t?” She huffed and left him at the door. He followed her after closing it behind him and seemed to take in the state of her living room. “What happened?”

She sat at her couch, hiding her face in her hands with a muffled groan. “I don’t think…”

He had followed her again, now sitting to her left. She looked back at him when she noticed his fingers lacing with hers and tugging on them gently to get her attention. “You can tell me anything.”

She pulled her legs up until she could rest her chin over her knees, hugging them to her and feeling extremely conflicted. Could she really tell him anything…? They had already established that they were great friends - almost best friends at this point, - and yeah, he was kind and a good listener and gave good advice and yeah, who was she kidding, she was going to spill her heart out or she’d break.  “Neal was being a fucking jerk, as usual,” she started, and was almost surprised at the amount of venom in her voice. “I hate that he just gets to come back here and be the cool dad after what he did to me. It’s unfair that I had to give birth with my foot handcuffed to a bed and he got to get away, that he got to find someone else, get engaged and, on top of that, my son. It makes me sick.”

She wasn’t checking on his reaction, and to be honest she didn’t want to see it just in case of what she’d see. He didn’t make a sound, so she went on without a hitch. Something had been unlocked inside of her, and it poured out of her like bile. “I hate that he just comes here whenever he wants, just like he never left me to rot in prison for his crime, and I hate that Henry loves him, because that’s what he does. He loves people. And I can’t fault him for loving his dad, no matter how I feel about him now. I used to love him too.”

Her words had turned almost inaudible by then. Her arms tightened around her, as if she could fashion her legs as a shield to protect her from anything that would try to harm her.

(Nevertheless, it was too late, the damage was already done).

“You know why Henry loves people so unconditionally?” She jerked back, not anticipating for him to answer. Most people would just pat her shoulder, give her a ‘there there’ speech and move on.

Silly of her, really: she knew Killian wasn’t most people. Most people wouldn’t certainly look at her with such intensity she felt like he was going to drill a hole in her forehead.

“Because you taught him that. You’ve done a great job with him. He’s the greatest kid. And of all the people in his life, I assure you he loves you the most.”

She gulped back tears. “You think so?”

He nodded, and her bullshit detector didn’t register any anomaly. “I know,” he added reassuringly, and she sighed, closing her eyes and dropping her head on her knees, willing herself not to tear up. She heard him shuffling around, and after a moment, something tickled her nose. She opened her eyes and smiled when they met a tiny white daisy, like the wild ones that grew at the ragged edges in sidewalks, the ones she had braided flower crowns with when she was younger. She took it from his fingers and rose it to her face, inhaling its scent deeply, and her eyes closed. She felt every muscle in her body relax, and when she turned to address Killian couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re very sweet, did you know that?”

He shrugged. “It was bound to happen.”

For a moment, the pair didn’t move at all, relishing in the silence and simply sitting there, staring at each other. Finally, she looked at him, trying to read her facial expression and inching closer to him. Before she could question her own actions and do anything to stop them, she was suddenly leaning over, bringing her face closer to his, her one and only destination in mind: Killian’s lips.

She was so close she could feel his breath on hers when his hands leapt out to stop her. “Emma... Emma, wait,” he stammered awkwardly, and the feelings she had tried to repress just few seconds ago were replaced by an overpowering sense of shame. She had always considered herself pretty good at guarding her emotions; but she had a feeling that in that moment, her face betrayed her in some way. She withdrew from him, crossing her arms over her chest, the only armor she could conjure in such short notice.

“Is this against the doormen’s code?” she asked flippantly, and he shook his head adamantly.

“The gentleman's code, actually.” He tried taking her hand in his, but she sprang to her feet, leaving him sitting and frozen in the same exact place where she had almost kissed him. He looked at her pleadingly. “You’re upset, and I don’t want this to happen just because you’re angry and sad.”

She swallowed down some reproachful retort, and made to retreat to her room - he could stay in her living room for all she cared, she wouldn’t be leaving her bed until she had learned how to live with the embarrassment of what had transpired between her and her doorman. She had almost gotten to her door but Killian was already behind her, trapping her between his body and the closed door. His arm dashed over her shoulder until there was almost no space between her and him, her back to his chest and his chin touching the back of her head. The back of her neck tingled as his agitated breath caressed the exposed skin under her ponytail, and she shivered. She froze, both because she could not go anywhere until he released her and because she felt paralyzed from the intimacy of their position, the ‘what ifs’ and possibilities of the moment warring with her earlier shame at his rejection.

With one of his hands effectively trapping her, he set his left one on her hip, and her trembling escalated. “You have no idea how badly I want this, but not like _this_ ,” he murmured, so quietly that she almost missed it. She stayed in place, hardly able to breathe, until an almost imperceptible keen left her lips when the hand at her hip slid tantalizingly slowly up her side until it reached her neck, moving strands of hair away to bare the naked skin for him to leave the softest of kisses there. Her hands had curled into fists at her sides, her nails leaving marks on her palms at the pressure, but she relished on the pain, trusting that it’d keep her grounded before she did something stupid like grab him and (fail to) kiss him.

(Again.)

And, after his whispered confession, she could see his point.

It still didn’t mean she wasn’t hurt, and disappointed, that the lips on her neck only brushed it for a handful of seconds until he pulled away and cold replaced the places where his skin had been touching hers.

“I need to go back to the front desk,” he explained behind her, but she still didn’t move, her eyes never leaving her door and facing away from him. His heavy sigh was answer enough to her silence though, but she almost broke down when his feet shuffled closer to her again, and he left a kiss on the crown of her hair before stepping outside of her apartment, leaving her alone.

(Again.)

* * *

**  
** She could say the rest of her weekend was okay, but even if Emma excelled at lying to herself, she had to admit it sucked. _Hard_. **  
**

For starters, her fight with Neal had drained her.

Then, no matter how much the solo time gave her ample time for herself and catch up with friends and laze around, she missed Henry. She always did whenever he was away, she didn’t even want to imagine how she’d be once he was old enough to leave for college.

Lastly, the thing with Killian. She still didn’t know what to do. Good on her silent vow, she hadn’t left the premises of her apartment, and not only because she didn’t want to chance encountering him downstairs, but because she didn’t really feel like getting out of bed.

Saturday night and she was holed up in bed all alone, picking up her phone every five minutes like some paranoid weirdo thinking she’d missed her crush’s call when, in fact, nobody had called.

What was her life anymore.

Rationally, she knew he was giving her space after his confession, and probably leaving her some time to chill seeing how messed up her feud with Neal had left her. The problem with that was that Emma didn’t want space, or time. She didn’t want to waste more of her time sulking because of Neal’s assholery or other guys who didn’t make her happy.

(She wanted _him_.) (Damn, did she want him.)

What was that that Mary Margaret always said? Take a leap of faith or something?

Holding her phone like a lifeline, her fingers typed a text as fast as she could and sent it before she could regret it.

_Hey._

**_Hi._ **

_Is your shift done yet?_

**_In about 10 minutes. Why?_ **

She bit her lip. _Do you have plans afterwards?_

**_Does sleep count as a plan?_ **

_Maybe if it’s with somebody else._

She gulped as she waited for his response, and almost dreaded his answer.

**_Then no, I don’t have any plans._ **

She heaved a huge mental sigh of relief. _Wanna hang out?_

**_Are you sure that’s a good idea?_ **

_Henry’s with Neal for the rest of the weekend, Mulan and Ruby are in Maine visiting Granny, and I can’t sleep with this stupid storm. I figured we could do something. Watch a movie. Have shots. Your pick._

Bracing herself, she opened his next message. ** _I’ll be up in 20._**

_Good._

* * *

 

Good to his promise, he rang her bell 21 minutes later. The guy was ridiculously punctual, something she had teased him about in the past but nevertheless found oddly endearing. He held up a brown paper bag that creaked loudly in the hallway. “I brought popcorn and ice cream.”

She led him inside after taking it from him, smiling. “My hero.”

He walked behind her as she made her way to the kitchen and they made the popcorn. They carried it over to the couch, but when Emma complained about the movie she wanted the watch not being on Netflix anymore, they moved to her bed, where they could stretch as much as they could and there was much more space for the two of them. She would have thought that it’d be weird enough to invite him into her place after their last conversation, but with Killian, it was too easy sometimes. Once they started talking about something completely different, the awkwardness seemed to deflate and just disappear.

After they were done with the movie, she set the laptop on her bedside and fell back down on the bed, rubbing her face with her hand. It was raining like hell, and she tightened her hold on the comforter when thunder started getting closer and louder.

“So, since when can’t you sleep?” he asked, settling by her side and prying the comforter from her hands until they both were sharing it.

“It’s the storm. They spook me.” She didn’t add how they brought memories of nights spent in her car when the rain and thunder would wake her up and make it impossible for her to feel safe at all, or tell him about the foster homes where she had wished for someone to come tuck her in and drive the fear away. He didn’t need to know that.

But, by the way he was looking at her, she felt like he already guessed. He always saw too much.

He nudged his shoulder with hers to catch her attention. “And you’d rather, what, stay the night up instead of taking something to knock you off?”

“Why would I do that when I have you to bore me to sleep?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re hilarious.”

“Don’t I know it.”

He rolled on his side until his body was completely facing hers, heads inches apart sharing her pillow. He took in her face, and he moved his hand until it was hovering over her face, tracing the circles under her eyes. “You look exhausted.”

“It’s been a long couple of weeks,” she surmised, even if that was putting it lightly. Between the move, work, helping Henry out with school, Ruby’s new project and the emotional trainwreck that was her sentimental life, ‘long’ was the biggest euphemism ever for the past weeks. “Do I look gross?”

He made a show of looking her up and down, frowning. “Nah, you’re fine.”

“Wow, all that charm must work just great with the ladies, huh?” she teased, rolling her eyes, and he grinned, booping the tip of her nose with his finger. His other hand followed hers until it circled her wrist, pulling at it until it rested in the space between them.

“You tell me, you’re the only one I’m trying to impress.”

She stilled, torn between letting the smile threatening to spread over her face free or playing coy. “Is that so?”

His eyes never left hers, even as he kept caressing her knuckles with soft, wandering touches. “Aye.”

“Hm. Your ass-kissing still needs some work.”

He chuckled softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Emma didn’t know how long they stayed there, just laying on their sides next to each other, or how they got to be even closer than they had been positioned before. She got caught up in the feeling of the tip of his fingers writing nonsense on her skin, from her hands to her shoulders, words she sometimes caught and made her suppress a chortle and confessions that got her heart racing. Her gaze kept locked on his, and if this had been his plan to get her to sleep with the storm raging outside, it had been an outstanding failure on his part.

He appeared to reach the same conclusion, because he sighed heavily and wriggled on the bed, stretching awkwardly to fish his phone out of his back pocket.

“What are you doing?”

He ignored her, but reached out to pull his earpieces out of the very same pocket and held one out to her. “You can’t tell anybody about this, okay?”

She gave him a curious look, but nodded, offering her pinky. “Pinky promise.”

He smothered a laugh, and conceded, shaking his pinky with hers. Right on cue, he settled closer to her, until their shoulders touched, and she peeked over it to find out what he wanted to show her.

She broke into a fit of giggles. “You have a ‘Go To Sleep Motherfucker’ playlist?”

There were almost twenty songs from what she could see, but before she could read any title, he hid the screen with his other hand. “I may have had some trouble sleeping from time to time, after particularly… unsavory incidents,” he murmured embarrassedly, and she could swear the tips of his ears had turned pink. Emma, for her part, felt as if Christmas had come early.

“Press play,” she commanded, trying to take the phone away to read over the songs he had picked, but he slapped her hand away and shushed her.

“First, relax. Now, play.”

She mimicked zipping her lips, still laughing uncontrollably, and closed her eyes, breathing in slowly through her nose. Only when her giggling stopped, he settled beside her and obliged her. She listened intently the first seconds of the song and as soon as she recognized the first notes of Moby’s “Porcelain” she burst into delighted laughter. “Oh my God.”

“Laugh all you want, but I bet you’ll be sound asleep in less than 10 minutes.”

“Sure thing,” she grinned widely. She hummed under her breath, her fingers tapping the bass line on her comforter. Eventually, as the song progressed, she felt her every limb relax, and _damn_  if it wasn’t effective. Until the next song started, when a new fit of giggles threw her off, he muttered some embarrassed explanation as to how it had found its place in his list, she teased him some more and he tickled her midriff until she was in stitches.  

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she declared as Bella’s Lullaby from Twilight ended and Simon and Garfunkel’s “Scarabough’s Fair” started playing.

“Shut up Swan,” he grumbled, scowling half-heartedly at her. She pouted, and the action brought his attention to her lips.

 _Oh_.

She licked them almost unconsciously.  

“No goodnight kiss?”

He inhaled sharply, closing his eyes briefly. “Don’t tempt me.”

Her body moved on its own accord, until they were practically pressed together, her breasts crushing against his chest, their heartbeats a cacophony thundering inside their chests. “No kiss, no sleep,” she whispered, brushing her nose against his.

He looked up at her under his lashes, the unspoken moment they had shared the day earlier hanging ominously between them. “Are you sure?”

“Were you serious about me being the only girl you’re trying to impress?”

“Yes,” he stated without hesitation, and she would have never imagined that a simple word would manage to make her so goddamn _happy_ , something warm and bright starting at the tip of her toes that spread throughout her entire body until she could feel herself practically glow, illuminating the room.

(Or maybe it was just lighting during the storm, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t just happy to be here with him, hearing him say he wanted her and only her, just as much as she wanted him and only him.)  

“So am I.”

“Emma…” he started, but she closed the distance between them, brushing her lips over his and speaking amidst languid grazes of her skin on his.

“Less talking, more kissing.”

She kissed his grin, and the hunger that she had spied so many times in his eyes whenever he looked at her seemed to take over as he took control of the kiss, and she melted in his arms. She could scarcely breathe as he kissed away the wait, the doubt, the sorrow and the joy of finally being there, right in _that_ moment. She let out a gasp as his lips left her mouth and found the crook of her neck and then drifted up to the patch of skin below her right ear, until the earpiece she was still wearing got tangled between them and tugged on her hair. She muffled a curse and tried to pull it off at the same time he did, but managed only to almost topple to the floor, still entangled in each other’s arms. She started laughing uncontrollably, and Killian’s muffled chuckles met the hollow of her neck. He pulled back until he was hovering over her, the damn earpiece still hanging from his ear, and he took the phone from where it lay on the rumpled sheet.

“Do you need me to change the playlist? I have a really dope one, if I say so myself. It’s called ‘Can You Feel The Sex Tonight’” He slid over and wrapped his body around hers, running his hand up one of her bare legs. She shivered as his touch raised goosebumps on her skin, and hummed softly under her breath. She tucked her chin on his torso, her palm finding its way over his heart, and kissed his shoulder softly.

“Less kissing, more sleeping now.” He made a disappointed noise, and she grinned, biting his collarbone. “More kissing tomorrow,” she promised. He sighed, and the arm circling her waist held her closer. Emma’s scattered thoughts before sleep claimed her marveled at how their bodies perfectly fit, as clichés went, like two pieces of a puzzle coming together.

“As you wish, Swan. Sleep tight,” he whispered, and kissed her brow.

She hid a sleepy smile, her finger still brushing over his chest, and a silent promise to tease him in the morning for having Enya in his playlist as it played when they finally succumbed to sleep in each other’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> in case you were wondering, other songs in killian's 'Go The Fuck To Sleep' playlist include 'hide and seek' by imogen heap (yeah, the original mmm watchasaaaaaay), joshue radin's "winter", joy william's "speaking a dead language", "nowhere warm" by kate havnevik, "we move lightly" by dustin o'haloran, lifehouse's "everything", duran duran's "ordinary word", u2's "electrical storm" and "song for jesse" by nick cave and warren ellis


End file.
